Far from urban nuisances,
The night dives on the plain
The immense vault of the sky
Unveils a thousand sparks
Flames of opal,
Round, circle of solstice
The fires of St. John,
in the night of time.
Worries and ruins are forgotten ,
Our faces are being drawn,
By the light of the torches,
Suddenly embrace each other
Wood bundles.
Beech and oak are cracking,
Hot logs, human warmth ,
Our clamor and our songs,
Are getting lost in the fields.
We all are getting over,
Bed of embers and cinders,
In order to the fertility,
Make joyful our young homes.